A Change of Scenery
by broncomap
Summary: Life seems somewhat stale to Kitty!
1. Departures

Standing alone at the far of the Long Branch, Kitty crossed her arms and leaned on the bar. She'd owned the saloon for over 16 years now, and the scenes she was watching were all too familiar. Sam, at the other end of the bar, was filling beer mugs and happily gossiping with a group of cowboys. In the middle of the room, five locals were joking their way through a friendly game of poker. Near the entrance, 2 of her girls sat near the player piano singing softly. The farm boys sitting with them were mesmerized. The girls kept them buying drinks. It was another mid-week night just like hundreds, maybe thousands she'd seen before. She glanced around the room. Everyone seemed so happy. On many such nights she'd go from group to group laughing, talking, having a drink. A man or two might flirt with her, and she wasn't above flirting back, just a bit. It was all in fun. Everyone knew she was Matt Dillon's woman, and anyone who walked in ignorant of that fact, magically found out very soon. She let out a heavy sigh, poured herself a beer and carried it to small table in the very back of the room. Her body language clear – do not disturb. She wasn't feeling sociable.

Slowly sipping her drink, she shut out the laughter and music that filled the saloon. Her mug was half empty when footsteps approached. She didn't look up, but had cold words ready for whoever was daring to penetrate the wall she'd constructed around herself.

"Hello Kitty. I might not be gloomy enough for your party, but may I join you?"

A slight smile touched her lips, "Of course Doc."

He set his beer on the table and sat beside her. "What to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Doc pulled at his ear, "That means you don't want to tell me, but I think I can guess. Matt's been gone for well over a week. But you saw his telegram. The trial in Hays is over and he'll be back the day after tomorrow. That should ease your mind."

"Unless something happens to him between now and then."

"I know how hard the waiting is, but nothing will happen."

Kitty shook her head, "It's not just the waiting, it's knowing that when he gets back he could be wounded, hurt or exhausted." She bit her lower lip. "But even if he's fine – his office will be piled up with work he has to catch up on, and there will be at least half a dozen people who need his help for this or that." She let out a sigh, "And I feel bad even complaining about it. It's not like Matt's out drinking or gambling, he's the one riding all night, risking his life and …."

Doc put his hand on hers. "Hush, hush. We both know how hard Matt works, and what he does for people. That doesn't mean what you're feeling isn't real or right. Let me tell you something, Matt is the finest man I know. I'd do anything for him, but I am amazed, Kitty Russell, that you've been able to stick with him for all of these years. I don't know another woman who could have, given all the worry and difficulties. Now, I have to ask you something, if I may. It's personal."

"Since when has that stopped you, ask away." He took a fortifying sip of beer, "Kitty, are you sorry that 6 months ago, when Will Stambridge wanted to settle down with you, you sent him away? Do you regret that?"

"No Doc no. I can't be with a man I don't love, and I didn't love Will. I enjoyed his company, was grateful to him, flattered by his attention – I was even tempted by the idea of the kind of life he offered me, but I didn't love him. I'm not a woman who can give up love, and Matt's the man I love. I know he loves me too and believe me Doc, I know how deep that love goes. I'll never leave Matt." Kitty saw the relief on Doc's face and smiled slightly, "When I look back, I realize that the days Will and I shared were not real life. Will had no job, no responsibilities, no people in his life who needed him for anything, and his money hadn't run out, at least not yet. He bought that dirt farm, but I'm quite sure he had no notion of the day-to-day drudgery of farming. The truth is, Will wouldn't have lasted a month as a farmer."

Doc rubbed his mustache with a twinkle in his eyes, "Yep, he didn't seem like the physical labor type to me either."

Kitty laughed and the old friends enjoyed the moment until the sounds of the saloon re-claimed her attention. One poker game was breaking up and another beginning – a few cowboys were leaving and others walking in - her saloon girls were moving on to other customers. "Speaking of real life Doc, and this isn't about Matt it's about me, I'm feeling like my life is – well – it's reached a point that – it feels stale – no that's not the right word but…" Her voice trailed off and Doc took her hand. "What you need Kitty, is a change of scenery, some time away from your day to day problems and routine. Take a trip, stay in a nice hotel, shop in fancy stores, do all those things. And don't wait for Matt to have time to go - you go. You've talked about places you'd like to visit – San Francisco, New Orleans, St Louis. Do it Kitty, it'll do you good - a change of scenery."

Hays City

Matt led his horse out of the stable, glad to be on his way home. In his opinion the trial had gone on way too long. The defendant had a clever attorney who used every delaying tactic in the book. The fastest part of the proceedings was the jury reaching a verdict of guilty.

"Matt – Matt wait. Matt."

Sheriff Mitch Morris was running towards him. Matt stiffened, hoping it wasn't a problem that would delay his departure.

The somewhat portly sheriff took a few seconds to catch his breath. "Matt, you have to come up to Muriel Stewart's place. It might be important."

Matt frowned. He knew and liked Mrs. Stewart, a widow who did her best to tend to the sick in Hays. The town had trouble keeping a real physician, and during the stretches of time when there wasn't one, she was it. She had a knack for it, and seeing 8 children to adulthood had given her plenty of experience. Doc said that Mrs. Stewart was better at doctoring that some that went to medical school.

"Mitch, I'm about to head off. What's this about?"

"I know you're eager to get home, Matt. I'd be too if I were you, but there's a stranger, an old man, over at Mrs. Stewart's. She thinks he's near death, and he's saying he needs to find a redhead named Kitty Russell."

Matt quickly wrapped his reins around a rail, "Let's go." He strode off, with Morris trailing behind, and was soon at Mrs. Stewart's door. Within seconds of his knock, a petite, small boned woman opened the door and looked up at him with kind grey eyes. "Marshal Dillon, I'm glad you came. The gentleman in my parlor fainted in the street and was carried here. He says his name is Max Le Croix. He's terribly sick and goes in and out of consciousness, but he keeps talking about finding Kitty Russell. I know she's – she's your – a close friend - so I thought you should know."

"Thank you. Please take me to him."

Matt followed the tiny, straight-backed woman to her parlor. A gaunt, pale, gray haired man was lying on the couch drenched in sweat. The lines in his face were deep. Matt got down on one knee beside him, "Mr. Le Croix, I'm US Marshal Matt Dillon. I understand you're looking for Kitty Russell. I know her. Do you want me to give her a message?"

Le Croix forced his dark, watery eyes to focus. His voice was weak. "I heard she went west. Do you know her well?"

"Yes."

"Kitty was so beautiful. Is she still?"

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Matt's voice was low.

"So you love her?"

Matt swallowed hard. Something about the pain and hope in the man's eyes told him he had to reveal himself. He whispered the truth, "I love her more than anything."

"Then you'll do all you can to protect her." He closed his eyes. Matt thought the old man was asleep, but he opened his eyes a slit. His voice was barely audible, "Closer." Matt put a strong arm around the old man's frail shoulders and lifted him slightly. The man reached into his pants pocket and pressed a small silver key into Matt's hand. He struggled to speak, his fragile body trembled with the effort but he pressed his mouth close to Matt's ear, "New Orleans." His head drooped forward. He'd spoken his last words. Matt eased the old man's head back onto the pillow and got to his feet. A feeling of gloom settled over him, he had to get home.

The Long Branch

Sam started untying his apron, "Anything else before I go Miss Kitty?"

"No Sam, everything looks good and closing early gives you a chance to join the craps game over in the stable."

"I don't gamble much, Miss Kitty." He blushed slightly while hanging his apron on a hook behind the bar. "But I admit I like a throw of the dice now and again."

"You deserve some fun, Sam." She gave him a quick wink, "And good luck." She watched him go, and with a sigh mechanically went through her lock-up routine. Doc's words echoed in her head - a change of scenery. The idea was growing on her. She went upstairs to her suite, sat down at her vanity and gazed into the mirror. The necklace she was wearing caught her eye. It had been a gift from Matt, one of many. She recalled his first gift. It was a royal blue scarf, and his expression was almost comically worried when he presented it to her. Even now, 18 years later, her heart warmed at the memory of his smile when he saw how much she liked that scarf. Since then his confidence in choosing gifts had grown, and there had been many. Some for special occasions, others as an apology after an argument, and a few for no reason except that he'd been thinking of her. Those were her favorites.

She unpinned her long, red hair, and was filled with a deep longing for Matt. Why was she thinking of a trip, when the man she loved would be home the day after tomorrow. She brushed her hair with long, deft strokes and sighed. She needed a trip, that was why. She wasn't leaving Matt. Her love for him was as strong as ever, but she needed a break from her every day life and worries. Something was getting lost - something that she used to have and needed to find again. She set down the brush, quickly wiped off her make-up and made a decision. Being Kitty Russell, once she decided she acted.

She opened her closet and dragged out 2 suitcases. Tomorrow morning she'd buy a ticket for the train to New Orleans. If memory served it left at noon. Once she had a ticket, she'd telegraph her girlhood friend, Rosemarie. They'd managed to stay in touch with 2 or 3 letters a year. Rosie was the sweetest person she'd ever known. She was a schoolteacher now, reconnecting her would be wonderful. Lastly, before she boarded the train, she'd ask Doc to explain her trip to Matt and let him know she'd be back very soon.

She packed carefully, leaving room for new clothes to bring back. Satisfied that she was ready, she poured herself a brandy and curled up in her armchair to think. Some of the nicer hotels from years ago must still be in business. She'd wire one to make a reservation. There was a lot to do in the morning. She sipped her brandy feeling happy and excited.

TBC


	2. Arrivals

Kitty stepped off the train in New Orleans and looked around with some amazement. The New Orleans World's Fair of 1884 was long over, but many of the plazas and buildings constructed for that event remained. Reminding herself that she'd have plenty of time to explore, she walked towards the baggage area while scanning the crowd. She'd sent her old friend, Rosemarie, a telegram saying when she was coming. Perhaps she'd come to meet the train. Kitty shook head; she was being silly. She couldn't even be sure she and Rosie would recognize each other after all these years. Besides, Rosie was a teacher now, and would no doubt be in school at this very moment. She reached the area marked BAGGAGE CLAIMS, and looked around for a porter to help her with her luggage.

"Can I help you?"

"Let me be of assistance."

"I can get those bags for you."

Three porters came from different directions, each with the same idea. A lovely redhead looked like she needed help, and a hefty tip was waiting.

One of the men lengthened his stride and reached her first. Tall, thin and dark skinned with salt-and-pepper hair he gave a slight but courtly bow. "Please, allow me to carry your bags and escort you to a cab, if you need one."

"Thank you, that's exactly what I need." She graced him with a warm smile and pointed to her luggage. "Can you manage all of it by yourself?"

"I can, and it will be a pleasure." He tucked a duffle bag under his arm and lifted a suitcase with each hand. She picked up the small bag that contained her toiletries, and he led her towards the hansom cabs that were lined up at the curb. Carriage after carriage, with top hatted drivers and horses festooned with ribbons, stood ready. Kitty's eyes glowed with excitement and the porter couldn't help but smile. "Ma'am, I'd like to welcome you to New Orleans, you'll find it's a real friendly place. My name is Joe Jones, and I'm very pleased to be of service to you."

"I appreciate the welcome, Mr. Jones. I grew up here, but have been gone for many years. My name's Kitty Russell."

"I hope your train ride was pleasant Miss Russell, especially if it was a long one."

"It was both pleasant and long. I traveled all the way from Dodge City, Kansas. That's where I settled when I left here."

"That is quite a trip. You must be tired. I hope you have a nice place to rest up after your journey."

"I think so. I made a reservation at the Column Hotel on Charles Street. Do you know it?"

"Yes, indeed. An excellent choice for a fine lady like yourself." He led her to the first carriage in line, loaded her bags and helped her climb in. She reached into her purse for a few coins to offer as a tip. He put up his hand. "No need Miss Russell. Like I said, welcome to New Orleans." He turned to the driver. "The Column Hotel on Charles Street." The driver nodded and flicked the reins.

Joe Jones watched Kitty's cab drive off. He carried bags for people 6 days a week, and most of them barely looked at him. It was nice to help a woman who was so warm and friendly. He hurried back to the station. A voice called from a dark corner, "Over here Joe." The porter quickly joined a short but broad shouldered 40ish man.

"You were right, Mr. Benet, her name's Kitty Russell."

"I thought so, but I haven't seen her in years, so I couldn't be absolutely sure. Did you find out where she's staying?"

Jones nodded and held out his hand.

"I promised a big tip and you'll get it." The man opened his wallet and placed $5 in the outstretched palm.

"She's at the Column, you know, the small hotel over on Charles."

"Yes, yes, small but elegant. She has good taste. Did you find out anything else?"

Jones wiggled the fingers of his still outstretched hand.

"Don't get above yourself, Joe." Benet glared. Jones quickly put his hand down. "Sorry Mr. Benet. She said she came from Dodge City, Kansas. That's where she's been living."

"Joe, I admit you follow instructions well." He tossed a $1 coin to the porter. "I might have other work for you." Benet walked off without looking back.

Matt

Mile after mile, as he rode towards Dodge, Matt thought about the sick, old man who'd died in his arms in Hays City. Unanswered questions swirled in his head. Why was Max Le Croix so desperate to find Kitty? Was it just to give her that key? Why did he bring up protecting Kitty? Matt reached the edge of town and pushed his horse harder. The old man had spooked him. He needed to get to Kitty and be sure she was safe. He rode directly to the Long Branch, tied his horse to the rail and peered over the bat wing doors. Sam, Doc and a bunch of regulars were there, but there was no sign of Kitty. He pushed through the doors. "Hello Sam, is Kitty around?"

"Welcome home Marshal. Miss Kitty's not here." Doc hurried over. Kitty had left it to him to explain. "Welcome back Matt. Come sit down, I'll tell you about Kitty."

"Is something wrong, did something happen to her?"

"No, no come have a beer."

Knowing he'd get no answers until he did as Doc instructed Matt waited for Sam to provide a beer and followed Doc to a small table. "Doc, where's Kitty?"

"Well, she decided to take a trip, Matt. She was feeling kind of low - weary of running a saloon, and frankly, as you know, the realities of your job can be hard on her. She wanted to get away from everything for a little while."

"Doc, I never …"

Doc put up a hand to interrupt. "Matt, this is not about blame. You know that I understand about your job. My job is similar in some ways; we've talked about that many times. I get called away at all hours of the day and night, and have to travel hither and yon. Of course, nobody's shooting at me. That adds another element. But my point is, Kitty accepts the bad with the good, it's just that she needed a break from it all - her worries, her responsibilities, her day-to-day routine. I suggested a change of scenery, and I'm glad she decided to do it. It will refresh her. She'll be back. She wanted me to make sure you knew that. She's not abandoning her life here, and she's certainly not leaving you."

Matt nodded, "I think I understand, Doc. Where'd she go?"

"New Orleans."

"WHAT?"

"It makes sense Matt, she's from there, and there may be people she can re-connect with. Besides it's a nice city and ..." He saw the expression on Matt's face and frowned. "What's wrong with New Orleans?"

"Maybe nothing, but – well – let me tell you the whole thing." He produced the small silver key and told Doc about Max Le Croix.

Doc ran a hand across his mustache, "That's all he said at the end – New Orleans?"

"Doc, he was trying to say much more. He knew he was dying and tried to talk but that's all that came out. I don't know what this key goes too, but I figure it's got to be something, somewhere in New Orleans."

"That business about protecting Kitty is awful worrisome Matt. We don't know what you're supposed to protect her from. What do you plan on doing?"

"I plan to be on the next train to New Orleans. Problem is, the next one isn't until the day after tomorrow. I don't see what else to do. Leaving by stage tomorrow, or horse right now, won't get me there faster."

New Orleans

A bellhop set Kitty's bags down in a bright airy room. He accepted a tip with a courteous nod, and left. She stood motionless for a moment, to savor her surroundings. The room was exquisitely decorated, from the embroidered cushion on the armchair, to the carved handles on the closet door. In the best of spirits, she opened her window and looked out onto a beautiful, formal garden. Everything was so lovely. She unpacked her belongings into the spacious closet and the elegant maple-wood dresser. With everything put away and her shoes lined up, she sat on the armchair and flipped through a magazine about the sights to see in New Orleans. Her stomach rumbled. She smiled. It was time for dinner. She'd ask the hotel concierge about a restaurant, and tomorrow, she'd look up her friend, Rosemarie Le Croix.

TBC


	3. Plans

New Orleans

Clarice Benet, formerly Clarice Le Croix, impatiently pushed a strand of long dark hair from her angular face and looked out her living room window. Her husband, Paul Benet, had gone to the train station hours ago and should have been back by now. She spotted him turning the corner and smiled, hoping the spring in his step meant that things had gone well. Unable to wait, she opened the door as soon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs. "Hello darling. Did things go as we hoped?"

Benet shed his jacket and hung it in the hall closet, "Yes, indeed. Those porters will do anything for a few dollars. Joe, the tall, skinny one, greeted the redhead I thought was Kitty Russell. I was correct. She was recognizable even after all these years. Joe found out she's staying at the Column Hotel, and has been living in Dodge City, Kansas all this time."

"Good Lord, why on earth would she live there? How did she look? I hear life in that part of the country is hard on a woman."

Paul shrugged. "She looked great. She was a kid when she left, but the hair is still amazing, the eyes still stunning and her skin has a lovely glow. The figure she developed is quite nice too."

"Are you trying to make me jealous, my dear?"

"Of course not." He studied his wife's face, with her high cheekbones, sharp nose and small, almond shaped eyes. A face one could perhaps call exotic. He smiled, "You're the fairest of them all. The point is, Dodge is where your Grandpa Max Le Croix must have gone when he escaped the loony bin." He sunk down on the sofa and shook his head, "It's amazing that those fools running the asylum couldn't prevent his escape. They should have kept him in chains."

"I agree my dear, especially after all our hard work. Having a sane man committed is no easy feat. I've lost count of the policemen we've bribed. Then, after we finely got him in there, he outsmarted the guards and escaped."

"They underestimated him. I must say though, he couldn't have been in very good health when he ran away. Clarice, are you sure he made it to Kitty and gave her the key?"

"Of course, why else would she suddenly visit New Orleans after all these years. And, to think, we would never have known she was coming, if she hadn't sent that telegram to my sister, Rosemarie. It's a good thing our police lieutenant made sure I got that little wire. He's worth the money we pay him." Clarice sat next to Paul and crossed her legs. "Ah, my dear, departed younger sister, Rosie. She was the best beloved of grandpa Le Croix. I can just hear the old fool saying – _Rosie is a beauty inside and out. Her friend, little Kitty Russell, is too _– what bunk."

Paul saw the fury in his wife's eyes and wanted to stop the tirade he knew was coming. "Now's not the time to go over all that. We have a plan to put into play. Let's get to Charles Street and have a chance encounter with Kitty. She has your grandfather's key, and we are going to get it from her."

Dodge City

Matt sat in his office and ran a hand across his tired eyes. He'd spend the day going through a backlog of mail and meeting with annoyed farmers, angry ranchers and anyone else who had an issue he was supposed to magically solve. He mostly pretended to listen. Worry about Kitty and frustration at having to wait days for a train consumed him. He took a sip of tepid coffee and pulled the small, silver key from his pocket. It was too small to be a house key – maybe a closet, a chest, a jewelry box. He had no idea, he only knew that after Max Le Croix handed him that key, he died with a lot left unsaid. Matt shoved the key back in his pocket, stood and grabbed his hat from a wall peg. It was a quiet night, but he'd go ahead and make nightly rounds – for the third time.

New Orleans

After getting recommendations from the hotel concierge, Kitty decided upon a nice, but small restaurant in the neighborhood. She dressed with particular care, wanting to be stylish yet modest. A woman dining alone could be looked at as improper, but with style and the right attitude she could make it work. She put on a royal blue dress, set a matching hat on her head, and draped a lacy, beige shawl over her shoulders. After walking two blocks she lifted her chin and went into Le Coq D'or. The maître-de hurried over, "Good evening, Madame. Allow me to show you to a table. How many are expected?"

"It will just be…"

"Kitty, Kitty Russell – is it really you?"

She turned towards the door and saw a man and woman coming towards her, wearing big smiles. They seemed familiar, and she searched through her memories of New Orleans, "Clarice? Clarice Le Croix and Paul – Paul Benet?"

They nodded enthusiastically and the dark haired woman spoke, "We were walking down the street and saw your red hair." She giggled. "Then we got a look at your face and thought - that has to be Kitty Russell. I can't believe it. I can't believe you're in New Orleans. Oh, and Paul and I got married some time ago, so now I'm Clarice Benet."

Paul took his wife's arm and beamed. "Kitty, unless you're waiting for someone else, we'd love to join you and talk about old times."

Kitty smiled at the maître-de, "A table for three please."

Seated together at a prime table near a window Kitty looked at Clarice and Paul, "Did Rosie tell you I was coming? I sent her a telegram. I can't wait to see her."

Paul took his wife's hand and shook his head sadly. "No, we knew nothing about a telegram. Like Clarice said, we just happened to be walking by. If – if you sent a telegram to Rosie, she never got it. I – I to hate to have to tell you this, but the Good Lord took poor Rosemarie about a month ago."

"Oh no – I'm so sorry. Rosie and I kept in touch, but months went by between letters. I had no idea."

Clarice blinked back tears, "My sweet sister developed a heart condition. I doubt she ever wrote you about it. She hated the thought of anyone worrying about her." Clarice closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before whispering hoarsely, "We found, poor Rosie dead in her home. My only consolation was that she died quickly, and didn't suffer."

Slowly shaking her head, Kitty tried to find the right words. Paul broke the silence, "We all loved Rosie, and we all knew her well enough to know that she'd want us to celebrate her life with a good dinner and some fine wine. Let's start with the wine."

Kitty looked across the table at the couple. Something was odd about their quick changes in tone. Clarice read the look on Kitty's face. She leaned forward and gently set her hand on Kitty's, "It's been a trying time. I do think Rosie would appreciate a toast."

Kitty smiled sympathetically, "Yes, let's toast to Rosie."

TBC


	4. Next Moves

Two Days Later

Kitty sat in the Column Hotel's carefully cultivated garden, enjoying a moment of peace and solitude. She tilted her head back and felt the warmth of the morning sun on her face. The sweet scent of flowers was intoxicating. She pictured herself in a garden like this at home. Why not? All she needed was a small patch of land where she could plant a garden of her own design. She'd ask Matt if he knew of a good location. Matt - she smiled slightly – her thoughts turned to him so naturally. No matter what she saw or did in New Orleans, she couldn't wait to tell him about it.

"Here you go, Miss Russell." A waiter from the hotel coffee shop broke into her musings. He carefully placed a cup of coffee, two sweet rolls and copy of the New Orleans Morning Sun on the table next to her. "Enjoy your morning."

She smiled her thanks and as he walked away, realized how much she was indeed enjoying the morning. Moments of real relaxation had been rare since her dinner with Paul and Clarice. They'd been insistently eager to escort her around the city, barely leaving her alone for a moment. It was odd. She hadn't been close to either of them when they were young. Perhaps they were trying to make up for the fact that Rosie was gone, but the intensity of their watchfulness made her nervous. It might be time to politely phase out of their plans. She took a sip of coffee and unfolded the newspaper. Her eyes ran down the front page – concert listings, wedding announcements, a robbery, bar brawls, houses for sale. She bolted upright - a name jumped out - Max Le Croix. She set her cup down and read carefully.

_Mr. Max Le Croix, age 84, is still missing. As previously reported, he escaped from the New Orleans Asylum for the Insane. Anyone with information about Mr. Le Croix should contact Lieutenant Roget at police headquarters, 12B Christopher Street._

Kitty dropped the newspaper on her lap. Max Le Croix was a figure from her childhood, but she hadn't thought about him for years. He was Clarice and Rosemarie's grandfather, and more. Clarice was 9 and Rosie 5, when their parents died in a yellow fever epidemic and Grandpa Max took them in. He was loving, full of life, and prone to the kind of sailor's language that was thought unsuitable for kids. She was the same age as Rosie, and had never known her own grandparents, so he treated her like one of his. He always said that she and Rosie were sweet souls. The two of them would sit with him for hours, transfixed by tales of his seafaring adventures – exotic islands, amazing animals, beautiful dancers, mountains of gold, glittering jewels and on and on. They couldn't get enough. Clarice, on the other hand, found him an embarrassment and ridiculed his seafaring ways – his clothes, stories, raucous laugh, even his cooking. He did his best for Clarice, but there was no warmth between them. Still, it was weird that Clarice hadn't mentioned Max being in an asylum or his escape. Surely she'd outgrown the animosity she felt for him as a child. You'd think she'd be worried sick.

Kitty finished her coffee and thought about the past few days. Paul and Clarice had asked over and over, what had brought her back to New Orleans after so many years. No answer seemed to satisfy them. They were with her all the time, yet they'd never mentioned Grandpa Le Croix being missing. Something strange was going on, and whatever it was, she wanted no part of it. Today, she'd wait for them outside as usual, but she'd tell them firmly that she had other plans. She was finished sightseeing with Clarice and Paul Benet.

Dodge City

Doc neared the train depot and spotted Matt in his traveling coat, with his duffle bag in hand, pacing up and down the station. The good doctor planted himself in Matt's path. "Festus said you headed here over an hour ago. You must have walked 10 miles pacing back and forth."

"Thought the train might be early." Matt stared down the track.

"It's never early, but even if it arrived early, it wouldn't leave early."

Matt gave Doc a sour look. "Listen Matt, you're going to get to New Orleans and find out that Kitty is fine. The business with the old man and the key will turn out to be perfectly innocent. You and Kitty will have a nice few days in New Orleans, and come back together."

"Doc, you don't believe that any more than I do."

Doc scratched behind his ear in tacit agreement and the two men waited in silence. The train pulled up right on time. Matt was eager to board, "Wish me luck Doc. I'm going to need it, all I have to go on is a small silver key."

"Doc, Marshal Dillon, wait please." The two men turned and saw a small, thin woman hurrying towards them."

"Muriel, Muriel Stewart." Doc reached out and took her hand, "What's wrong, what brings you from Hays and the sick folks you tend to."

She put a hand on her chest and caught her breath. Matt looked at the train, itching to board. "Marshal, it's about the man who passed away on my couch, Mr. Le Croix. When I was going through his things to prepare him for burial I found this." She held out a red notebook. "It has drawings, notes and names. I was going to bury it with him, but I saw that one of the names was Kitty Russell, so I thought you might want it – I don't even know for what purpose. It's just a thought."

"Thank you, it could be exactly what I need." He tucked the notebook under an arm. "Marshal, I also found $30 in his pockets. I don't know of any next of kin to send it to."

Matt smiled, "Keep it, Muriel. I'm sure you'll find good use for it."

"Marshal, are you getting aboard?" The conductor was waiting to signal the engineer. "We don't want to get behind schedule." Matt quickly climbed on, the whistle blew and the train took off.

Muriel turned to Doc. "Should I really keep this money, like Marshal Dillon said?"

"If Matt says keep it, trust him on that."

She smiled and looked almost girlish, "Doc, do you know of any good medicines I can buy with this amount?"

"I sure do. Come to my office and we'll figure it out."

New Orleans

Clarice threw an envelope on the hall table in disgust, and look into the large, ornate mirror that hung above it. Paul was standing behind her. She ran a finger under one eye. "I fear the stress of getting that key is aging me." Paul didn't respond. She turned sharply to face him, "Don't you think I'm still beautiful. More beautiful than any woman – Rosie or Kitty for example."

"You are the fairest of them all, Clarice. I've told you that many times."

She crossed her arms, "Paul, we need that key. We got another foreclosure notice from the bank."

He shrugged, "The payments on this house are high, as is the price of bribing police officers, not to mention the cost of maintaining the life style we're best suited for. My family inheritance is almost spent, so we're running out of money. You promised we'd have your grandfather's wealth to live on when my money was gone."

"We will, and we deserve it after all we've been through - the bribes we had to pay to have my grandfather committed, the work of ransacking his house and going through every damn article of clothing he owns. Of course after that, we assumed Rosie had the key. Trying to beat it out of her was most unpleasant."

Paul shook his head sadly, "Rosie started out a beauty and ended up a mess of bruises, blood and broken bones."

"She was NEVER that beautiful, and think of the cost of bribing the police lieutenant and coroner to lie about her cause of death." She pushed her hair back with both hands, the rage in her face was clear. "Damn Grandpa Le Croix. With Rosie gone the key should have been mine. BUT NO – he had to run off and find other one he deemed deserving, Kitty Russell.

"Let's stay calm Clarice." He put a hand on her shoulder. "We know that Kitty must have the key, but where? I searched her hotel room when you had her out shopping. You searched her purse in the ladies room. She either carries it on her person or has it hidden somewhere. Where ever it is we need it soon."

Clarice reached up and patted Paul's hand. "If we can't get easily today, the storeroom where Rosie died awaits. Let's hope she hands it over quickly. I'd rather not go through that unpleasantness again."

Kitty's Hotel

Wearing his porter's uniform, Joe Jones stood across the street from the Column Hotel staring at the entrance. He had a good thing going. After his porter's job at the train station in the morning, he went home to sleep, and then came here to stand outside the hotel all night. The job was to watch for Miss Russell. If she left the hotel during the night, he was to follow her and see if she got some key from a hiding place. If she did, he had to grab it and bring it to Mr. Benet. It seemed like rich people's nonsense to him. No lady would go out alone in the middle of the night, in New Orleans. All that mattered was that Mr. Benet came every morning and paid him $2. He stifled a yawn just as Kitty emerged from the hotel. As usual, she stood by the front door and waited.

"Hello Joe."

"Oh, good morning Mr. Benet. Miss Russell just came out. She's probably waiting for you and your wife, like always." Paul slipped $2 into Joe's hand. "You've done a good job but we won't be needing you after this."

Clarice and Paul crossed the street to greet Kitty. Joe started to leave but something held him in place. He was too far to hear words, but he could see a conversation start with smiles but quickly turn angry. Miss Russell backed away. Mrs. Benet grabbed her arm, and Mr. Benet pulled something from his pocket and shoved it in her back. They started walking, moving down the street, a unit of three people.

Jones didn't move. It looked like Miss Russell was being taken at gunpoint, but what was he supposed to do? Anything he did would likely bring him trouble. He kept his eyes on the trio. When they were almost out of sight his feet started moving. He wished those feet were taking him to work, instead he found himself following the three people, at a safe distance.

TBC


	5. Things to Ponder

When Kitty felt the metal tip pressed against her back, she knew exactly what it was. An unfortunate fact of her life was that she'd been taken by gunpoint before. Clarice gripped her arm, "Let's take a walk." Paul stayed close so no one could see the gun. Kitty's eyes flashed, "I don't suppose you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"I think you know, Kitty." Clarice smiled, trying to appear natural "We'll discuss it when we reach our destination, or you can make it easy and give us the key right now. You see, we've known all along why you came to New Orleans."

Kitty didn't respond. Her head was reeling. When she told Paul and Clarice that she wouldn't be joining them today, she'd expected understanding, acceptance or even disappointment, but not the quiet rage they threw at her. Now she was being taken at gunpoint to some unknown place because they were sure she had some key. A key to what? The best she could for now was stay calm and alert. A chance to escape might present itself.

Matt

Matt sat in the back of the train with his duffle bag on the seat beside him. There were plenty of seats elsewhere, and he wanted to avoid having anyone next to him trying to make small talk. The thick, red notebook, that Muriel Stewart had given him, was on his lap. He flipped through the pages. It was filled with sketches, diary entries, recipes, notes and lists. He went back to the beginning, this time slowly going page by page. The first pages were covered with sketches - wild pigs, exotic lamps, elephants, intriguing buildings, strange hats, elaborate masks and ships, many ships. Beneath each ship was a neatly printed name and anywhere from 1 to 5 stars. Presumably, a rating system. Next he came to drawings of two beautiful little girls. One drew him like a magnet. A smile touched his lips. The cheeks were rounder and the freckles more pronounced, but there was no mistaking Kitty Russell's special beauty. Amazingly the warmth of her smile and wisdom in her eyes were there already. The other sketch was of a light haired child he didn't recognize. He continued turning pages and came to an entry written 30 years ago – _Rosie and Kitty are the sweetest children. They've suffered in their young lives and carry that in their souls, but it's made them more beautiful and wiser. Today I told them about my travels to the Ivory Coast, with it's huge palm trees and fantastic drummers. Their eyes grew big with wonder. Clarice of course ridiculed me. To her, the only thing I'm good for is money for fancy clothes and jewelry._

Matt frowned. This had to be the same Rosie that Kitty exchanged letters with a couple of times a year. Kitty talked about the letters, but had never mentioned her friend's last name. He continued going through the pages. More sketches, recipes for gumbo and grits, scattered notes and diary entries. It was clear that Max was raising Rosie and Clarice, and that Clarice had no respect or gratitude. Kitty lived nearby and he cared deeply about her.

_Poor little Kitty Russell, her mother tries her best but her father is a no good fool who gambles and squanders money. I help as much as I can, without hurting Mrs. Russell's pride. Kitty spends a lot of time with Rosie and me. We are quite the trio, 2 six year olds and a retired sailor._

_I caught Clarice stealing money from my room. When I said money should be earned she scoffed and left. I know the money was still in her pocket. She thinks I'm a fool. _

Matt kept turning pages. More sketches, recipes and a few Walt Whitman poems. Finally, near the end of the book there were two recent entries. The first was from 2 months ago.

_Clarice and Paul are desperate for the riches I have locked away. They bribed policemen to arrest me for so-called acts of insanity. That's enough to have me put away, and they're coming for me soon. There's no time to get the key to Rosie. I'll keep it with me and try to make sure she gets it when I die. I'm so proud of Rosie, she became a teacher and loves her little students._

The last entry was from a little over a month ago.

_Oh my God. I heard 2 guards talking about whether or not to tell me Rosie is dead. They say it was a heart attach. That's nonsense, a healthy woman in her 30's does not die of a heart attack. Clarice and Paul must have thought she had the key. They'll stop at nothing to get it. Now they will figure out I have it with me. I must escape. Rosie told me once, a long time ago, that Kitty Russell went to Dodge City, a place in Kansas. I'll try to get there. I can't give the key to Rosie, so I'll get it to Kitty. I need a plan, but it's hard to think. I'm surrounded by screams, cries and wails of grief. Anyone who is sane when they get here will surely be driven mad over time."_

Matt closed the notebook and took a deep breath. There was a possibility that he'd just read the rants of a crazy old man. Most people in an insane asylum probably think they're sane. The idea that one of his granddaughters killed the other seems far-fetched. And what about those so-called riches? Were they truly valuable or even real? He died with just $30 in his pocket, and sailors were a breed of men given to tall tales and exaggeration. He pictured Max Le Croix asking him if he loved Kitty. The old man's eyes demanded that he speak the truth. Matt tapped the notebook with a finger. The train couldn't get to New Orleans fast enough. Every word in that notebook was true. He had to get to Kitty.

New Orleans

Clarice and Paul led Kitty down an isolated street passed empty lots and small ugly buildings. Near the end of the street Paul unlocked the door of a nondescript, one-story building and shoved Kitty inside. She glanced around. It looked like an empty storeroom – no furniture, lamps or decorations – nothing but dust.

Clarice closed the door behind them and Paul put his gun away. "Kitty, make things easy and hand over the key. We'll even give you a going away gift, a ticket back to – where was it – Kansas?"

"I don't have any key, and I don't know what you're talking about."

Clarice muttered, "Stupid bitch" and walked to a corner of the room. "You'll regret your stubbornness, Kitty." She crouched down and opened a trap door that led to a staircase. "Let's go." Clarice went down first. Paul pushed Kitty in front of him and followed. As soon as they got downstairs Kitty felt a drastic change in temperature. The basement was icy cold and very damp. It was empty except for three wooden chairs, and some ropes on the floor in a corner.

Paul pointed to the wall, "If you look carefully, you'll see a key hole. It's a cleverly hidden wall safe. We couldn't find a way to break it open and obviously explosives would damage the contents, so we need the key. Hand it over." He moved closer and spoke quietly almost coaxingly, "Come on, make it easy on yourself."

"I do not have any key."

Clarice stepped in front of Paul and slapped Kitty hard across the face, "Liar. I admit we made a mistake when we thought Rosie had the key, but we know you have it. That's why you came to New Orleans after all this time. We're not stupid."

Kitty saw the look in Clarice's eyes, and her stomach lurched. "You killed Rosie, didn't you? You murdered your own sister, a wonderful, beautiful woman. You're disgusting."

Clarice lifted her arm to smack Kitty again. Paul caught her hand, "Let's not go so fast. I'll tie her up and we'll leave her here without food and water. Tomorrow she'll be more co-operative."

"Of course, my dear." Clarice spoke through gritted teeth. "Let's not waste our energy."

Paul picked up some ropes and tied Kitty's hands behind her back. He shoved her to the floor and tied her ankles together. "By the way, you can yell until you're hoarse, no one will hear. Spend the night thinking about how simple things would be if you just handed over that key." The couple went up the stairs and locked the trap door behind them. They exited the building not knowing that Joe Jones had followed them, and was watching from across the street. Jones frowned when he saw the couple exit without the nice redhead. Maybe he should do something - tell someone. On the other hand, Mr. Benet was a rich man, and he had a gun. A man like that could bring a heap of trouble to a dark skinned porter's life. Anyway, rich people's issues were none of his business. Jones took a last look at the building and went home.

TBC


	6. In the Cold

Early The Next Morning

Kitty shivered in her sleep and tried to reach for a blanket. She couldn't move her hands, they were tied behind her. Her eyes popped open. There was no blanket, only a cold and empty room. Yesterday's strange events flooded back. Her ankles were tied together, but she managed to push with her feet and squirm against the wall, to reach a sitting position. She wiggled her numbing fingers, and pressed her dry lips together. Yesterday's breakfast in the garden seemed like a hundred years ago. She tried to organize her thoughts. Paul and Clarice would be back for that key, a key she didn't have. She had to figure a way out of this situation. If Matt knew what was happening, he'd get to her as fast as humanly possible, but she hadn't told Doc or anyone how long she planned to stay in New Orleans. It would take a while for anyone in Dodge to start worrying about her. She was on her own with this one.

A noise made her look up. The trap door opened and Paul descended, followed by Clarice, both wearing jackets. Without a word Paul yanked Kitty to her feet, dragged her to the middle of the room and shoved her into a chair. Clarice sat across from her and pulled out a canteen. "It's funny how fast a person can build up a thirst." She filled a cup with water, smiled at Kitty and drank it down. "And breakfast sounds good about now." She opened a bag and took out two sandwiches. "Ham and eggs, how nice." She handed one to Paul. He pulled a chair over and sat beside her. Both started eating. Clarice pulled her jacket tightly around her and glanced up between bites. "Kitty, all you have to do to get food and water is hand over the key. It's so simple."

"Look, I don't have any key, and I don't know what key you're talking about. Let just end this now. Let me go."

Clarice sighed, "Paul finish your breakfast and do what you have to do. Don't disappoint me."

Paul hurriedly devoured his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. "I don't like doing this, but I must." He calmly stood, formed a fist and punched Kitty in the jaw." She flew from the chair. He walked over and was about to yank her to her feet, but Clarice put a hand on his shoulder. "Darling, wait. Let's not handle this the way we did with Rosie. We can be more efficient. Think about it. Unless Kitty managed to hide the key somewhere else, which is doubtful, it must be in her clothing. We'll strip her, and look through every stitch she's wearing. She's a clever woman so we'll have to open every seam and look for hidden pockets. Keep her still my love and I'll get started." Paul turned Kitty onto her back and held her down. Clarice smiled sarcastically. "Here we go. Left foot – right foot. She removed Kitty's shoes and searched them thoroughly before tossing them aside. "Next the skirt." Paul pinned Kitty to the floor with a knee and one hand. He used his other hand to help wrestle her skirt off. She struggled, squirmed and kicked as violently as she could, even with her ankles tied together. "Let go of me, I don't have any key." Paul tightened his grip. Clarice finally had the skirt in her hands. She searched every pocket, hem and seam. Her face grew red. "Damn it." She grabbed Kitty's blouse, and tore it open. Buttons flew across the room. "Hold her up Paul, I don't want to untie her, so I'll have to rip the blouse from her body." Kitty tried to elbow him off and jabbed him in the eye." He winced. His eye was watering, "You're stronger than you look, Kitty." She snarled. "Let go of me." Clarice had the blouse in pieces and frantically searched through every strip and seam. No key. "Obviously we have to go deeper. Hold her Paul, she won't like this." He pinned her to the floor so Clarice could get to her garters and stockings. Kitty kicked with every ounce of strength she had, but she couldn't overcome Paul's iron grip. She was filled with hatred for him. It was clear he enjoyed rendering her helpless. Clarice removed the last pieces of underwear. Kitty was naked except for the ropes binding her ankles and wrists. Her jaw tightened. She was determined to hold back all tears of anger and humiliation. These bastards wouldn't see her cry. Clarice, red-faced and furious. started going through the clothes again, frantically ripping and searching. Paul saw that his wife was full occupied, and moved his hand to Kitty's breast. She thrust her weight forward and bit his hand, drawing blood.

"Ouch."

Clarice looked up. Paul hid his hand. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, "What were you just doing Paul?" "Nothing, fairest of them all. Did you find the key?"

"NO." She looked at Kitty, who was breathless from her struggles. "WHERE IS IT? TELL ME YOU BITCH." Kitty said nothing. Clarice took a step and kicked her in the gut. She noiselessly doubled over, unable to take a breath. Clarice sneered. "Let's leave her here to think. Not too long though. If she freezes to death we'll never get that key."

"All right my dear." Paul looked at Kitty, curled up naked on the floor. It was a shame to let a beauty like that go to waste.

"Come Paul, I'm getting cold."

"Yes, my dear." He followed her up the stairs and out of the building.

The Train Station

Joe Jones stood with a group of porters waiting for the 1st train of the day. His uniform was impeccably clean and his salt and pepper hair neatly combed, but his posture was not as erect as usual. He hadn't slept at all. Thoughts of the friendly red-haired lady, Kitty Russell, had kept him tossing and turning. Maybe things weren't as bad as they looked. Even if they were, what could he do? Police weren't likely to listen to a poor, dark-skinned man telling stories about rich, society folks.

The train pulled in and the conductor opened the doors. Joe pushed his confusing thoughts aside. The first person off was a tall and well-built man. A compelling figure who carried himself with an air of competence and authority. He went by without stopping, carrying a notebook and a duffle bag. Jones turned his attention to the other passengers pouring out of the train. That man didn't need his help.

Matt Dillon hadn't figured out exactly how to go about finding Kitty, but a place to stay was the first thing he needed. He walked past the porters and out of the station, knowing there'd likely be a cheap hotel nearby. Sure enough, there was small building across the street with a simple sign - Hotel/Boarding House. By the looks of it, the kind of place that would fit his budget. He hurried inside and was quickly shown to a room. It met his expectations – small and sparsely furnished with paint peeling off the walls, but it was clean and the price was right. He dropped his duffle bag on the bed. The last customer had left a newspaper there. Matt was putting it in the trash when an item caught his eye.

_Mr. Max Le Croix, age 84, is still missing. As previously reported, he escaped from the New Orleans Asylum for the Insane. Anyone with information about Mr. Le Croix should contact Lieutenant Roget at police headquarters, 12B Christopher Street._

All right, someplace to start. He tossed off his traveling jacket and put on his vest, it was a lot warmer here than in Kansas. After thinking for a second, he put on his gun belt and badge, deciding that both could come in handy. The hotel manager provided directions' to police headquarters and 15 minutes later he was inside the large white building. He walked passed the front desk, straight to one with the nameplate – Lieutenant Roget. The man felt Matt's presence but continued writing on a pad, "Check in at the front desk."

"My name's Matt Dillon, I'm a US Marshal, Kansas Territory."

Roget quickly looked up, "Marshal, welcome to New Orleans. What brings you here?"

"Lieutenant, I have some information that will be of interest to you. I understand that a man named Max Le Croix is missing. He headed west and got as far as Hays City, Kansas. I'm sorry to say he became quite ill and died there."

"Well, that is most unfortunate. I'll notify the asylum officials. They will not be pleased. This will do nothing for their reputation. I assume you brought along what belongings he had with him when he died. I'll see they go to his next of kin."

Matt's instincts kicked in strong. He didn't trust this man. "Sadly, he had nothing with him."

"Really, nothing at all?"

Matt decided to bait the man. "Nothing at all, but I was with Mr. Le Croix when he died. He mentioned a granddaughter named, Rosie. Is she still in New Orleans?"

Roget looked at Matt and swallowed hard. Something about the tall marshal made him nervous. He took a breath, there was no need for fear. Aside from Paul and Clarice, he and the coroner were the only ones who had seen the bruised and broken body of Rosemarie Le Croix. "Marshal, sadly she died of a heart attack, strange at her young age, but such things happen."

"I see, just one more thing. I'm looking for a friend, a woman named Kitty Russell. I believe she arrived here a few days ago. Do you have any idea where I might find her?"

The officer leaned back in his chair and relaxed, "Marshal, I can't be expected to keep track of everyone who visits New Orleans. I'm sorry, I have not heard of your friend."

Matt nodded. He could see that Roget was telling the truth about one thing. He didn't know where Kitty was. "Good day, Lieutenant."

TBC


	7. The Right Assistance

Matt left police headquarters sure that Police Lieutenant Roget had lied about Rosie's death, but equally sure that the man knew nothing about Kitty. He stood outside the building trying to come up with a reasonable next step in his search for Kitty.

"Mister, Sir, Marshal."

Matt turned and saw a tall, thin, dark-skinned man, with salt and pepper hair, walking towards him. He was wearing a porter's uniform.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"I didn't mean to listen in, but I was sitting in the police station and heard you say you were a US Marshal. My name's Joe Jones and I'm a porter down at the train station. In fact, I noticed you there earlier, getting off the first train of the day. Thing is, I couldn't keep working this morning. Something weighed too heavy on my mind. I came here to tell the police about it, but I'm not the kind of person they're quick to pay attention to. I've been waiting a while."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm way out of my jurisdiction. I don't see how I can help you."

"Marshal, I heard you ask about Miss Kitty Russell. I know where she is, and it's no place she wants to be. She was taken at gunpoint."

Matt's eyes widened. He'd seen clues pop up unexpectedly before, but this beat all. "Can you take me there?"

"I'd be pleased to and while we're walking, I'll tell you what I know."

"Lead the way, the faster the better."

Kitty

Naked, and curled up in a ball, Kitty couldn't keep her teeth from chattering. She tried to stop another cough from rising up out of her chest. Every cough intensified the pain in her gut, thanks to Clarice's hard tipped boots. She tried to trick her mind by recalling warmth – being under a quilt with Matt, snuggling against his warm body on a cold winter's night. Matt – The man she wanted to grow old with. She'd thought the only thing that could rob her that joy would be his death in the line of duty. Oh Matt – he'd told her that he loved her many times, but right now all she could hear was his voice, hoarse and desperate, saying, _I need you Kitty, I need you_. The deep, raw truth of that had made her want to live. She needed him as much. They couldn't be the best of themselves without each other. He always said that there was hope in any situation. She had to hang on to that. Damn it, she couldn't die naked and alone in some storeroom because she didn't hand over a key she didn't have.

Matt

Joe Jones pointed to a one-story building on a desolate block, "There it is. They took her in there at gunpoint and left her there." Matt tried the door; it was locked. "Step back, Mr. Jones." With a strong, swift kick the door sprang open. Jones followed Matt inside with eyebrows raised. He was glad he and this man were on the same side.

Matt stood in the center of the room. "It's empty, no sign of anything or anyone."

"I swear they brought her here and left without her. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yep." Matt nodded, "I've been a lawman a long time. Things aren't always what they seem to be. Let's check around the walls and floor to make sure there are no hidden doors or anything like that."

Matt started at one end of the room, feeling the wall for long, straight cracks or any other sign of a secret door. Jones saw what the Marshal was doing and started from the other end. They met in the middle. Matt sighed, "Nothing, let's check the floor for loose boards."

"Marshal, look there." Jones pointed to a bump in the floor. Matt knelt down. "It's a latch." He pushed it open. Underneath was a metal ring. He yanked hard. The trap door opened and he hurried down the steps with Joe Jones close behind. Kitty was shivering in a corner, naked, bruised and tied up like an animal. They froze in shock for an instant. Jones swiftly turned away. It wasn't right that he see a woman like that. He shed his jacket and shoved it in Matt's hands. Matt hurried over and wrapped the porter's jacket around Kitty's cold body. The bruises on her face and stomach twisted his heart. He sat on the floor and pulled her onto his lap. Her skin felt cold, much too cold. He put her against his chest to warm her. She slowly opened her eyes. "Matt, you're here, how?" He set his outrage at her treatment aside. Now was not the time for rage or questions. He gently touched her face. "Long story, but you'll be fine." He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the ropes from her ankles and wrists. The ugly bruises underneath made his stomach churn. He heard a noise and looked up. Clarice and Paul raced down the steps. The unlatched trap door had warned them to be ready, Paul's gun was drawn. Jones moved quickly and stood between Paul and Matt, who had Kitty on his lap. Paul pointed his gun at Jones, "You are dead. I'll count to three before I pull this trigger. I want to see you pee in your pants out of fear."

The smug pause gave Matt opportunity. He swiftly set Kitty down and shoved Jones aside. Paul saw and adjusted his aim. Matt drew. His bullet hit Paul's chest. His gun flew from his hand as he crumbled to the floor. Clarice went to grab the gun.

"Hold it. If I were you I'd stop there."

"You wouldn't shoot a woman."

"Try me."

Clarice backed up and turned to face him. "I don't know who you are, but this misunderstanding can be cleared up. Let's go see Police Lieutenant Roget."

Matt ignored her. "Mr. Jones would you please pick up that gun and keep it pointed right at her."

"Sure thing Marshal."

Matt hurried back to Kitty and lifted her in his arms. She felt warmer already and he was slightly relieved. For the first time he looked around the entire room. The sight was bizarre - torn pieces of fabric, buttons, zippers, ripped ribbons and busted shoes were strewn about.

Kitty lifted her head and looked towards Paul's body. "Is he dead?"

Jones picked up Paul's hand and felt for a pulse. "He's dead from the bullet for sure, but look at this hand. It's swollen to twice its size from an infection."

"I bit him." Kitty's voice with filled with pride. Bruised and naked except for a porter's jacket, she was still Kitty Russell. Matt smiled at the women he held in his arm.

"Doesn't anyone care that my husband is dead?" Clarice walked toward Paul's body.

"Oh Clarice, even as kids you two were friends for what you could do for each other. I'm sure you got married because you thought you'd make a nice looking society couple."

"You bitch." Forgetting her current situation, Clarice moved to slap Kitty's face. Joe Jones aimed Paul's gun at her. She turned, "How dare you, you're nothing but a porter."

Matt took a step towards her, still holding Kitty in his arms, "I'm a US Marshal and Mr. Jones is my assistant. You go sit in the corner over there and be quiet. If you don't, I'll have my assistant tie you up."

He felt Kitty giggle and then wince in pain. "We'd better get you to a doctor, Kitty." He looked over at Joe. "Mr. Jones, can you lead me to the nearest hospital?"

"Sure thing, but what about them. " Jones pointed to Paul's dead body and Clarice sitting in a corner scowling."

"He's dead, and she'll be fine waiting here until I have time to go to the authorities. Let's just be sure to close the latch so she's locked in."

Clarice was horrified. "You're not leaving here with a dead body? How long do you intend to leave me here? It's cold. Will it be hours – days?"

Matt ignored her. "Mr. Jones, to a hospital please, lead on."

TBC


	8. Choices

Matt paced back and forth in the waiting room of St. Claire's hospital. Joe Jones had left him at the entrance. He figured he'd done all he could to help, and since he'd left work early he could make up some income by meeting the late afternoon trains.

The door from the treatment rooms swung open and an elderly, mustached doctor walked towards Matt. He was taller and heavier than Doc Adams, but carried the same worldly kindness in his eyes. "Marshal Dillon, I understand that you brought in the patient, Kitty Russell."

"That's right, how is she?"

The doctor shook head, "To treat a woman like that is an abomination. She's suffered quite a shock to her system and her abdomen, jaw, wrists and ankles are badly bruised. However, there are no broken bones, and although there is some congestion in her chest, there is no sign of pneumonia. I see no reason why she won't make a full recovery with rest and proper nutrition. She's sleeping comfortably in room 100."

"Can I see her?"

"Not now. I have her heavily sedated. She'll sleep for at least 4 or 5 hours. Come back later. I'll release her to your care when she wakes up, if she feels up to it. Oh, one more thing." The doctor wiped his mustache in a gesture reminiscent of Doc Adams, "She's in a hospital gown right now, but she will need something other than a porter's jacket to wear out of here. I assume you can take care of that."

"I – I – of course, thank you doctor." Feeling greatly relieved, he checked the time as he left the hospital. Since Kitty would be asleep for a while, he had time to take care of another matter. He got his directional bearings and 15 minutes later stormed into police headquarters. Lieutenant Roget was at his desk, but Matt walked by before he could utter a word. He stopped at a door marked, **Captain's Office**, in gold letters. After a quick knock he went in without waiting for a response. A young looking captain jumped up from his desk and drew his gun. He pointed it right at Matt's chest. Surprised by both the gun and the youth of the man pointing it, Matt held up a hand. "My name's Matt Dillon. I'm a US Marshal. I have information about a number of crimes, but I have to be sure I'm giving it to the right man." The captain slowly lowered his gun. "Sorry, I have enemies right here in this building." He met Matt's eyes. "Since I took this job, a year ago, I've been trying to rid the place of corruption. It's running wild, but knowing that and proving it are two different things. If you think I'm the right man to talk to, please have a seat."

45 minutes later the two men emerged from the office and the captain called over a seasoned sergeant. "Sarge, get a couple of good men and go the empty warehouse on Bank Street and Vine. A trap door leads to a basement. You'll find a mess down there. Arrest the woman, her name's Clarice Benet, and take care of the body of the dead man, Paul Benet. Then be sure to collect anything else that's there. Everything is evidence of criminal acts."

Matt saw Lieutenant Roget inching towards the door, and reached out a long arm to grab him. "Roget, I think the captain has something to say to you too."

"That's correct. Roget, I've long suspected you and the coroner of covering up murders for money. It seems Rosemarie Le Croix was one of the victims. You're under arrest."

Matt took satisfaction is seeing Roget in handcuffs. Crooked lawmen were a special kind of low in his book. "Captain, you have my statement. Contact me if you need anything else."

"Than you Marshal, I hope I can be of service to you sometime."

Matt left the building and steeled himself for his next task. It would be a challenge – selecting an outfit for Kitty to wear when she left the hospital. Over the years, he'd gotten the hang of choosing gifts for her, including articles of clothing, but putting together an entire outfit was a whole other thing. Luckily he didn't have to shop. Joe Jones had mentioned that Kitty was staying in the Column Hotel on Charles Street. He was confident that, with a show of his badge, he could talk his way into her room. Then the hard part would begin.

He found the hotel with no trouble and, as expected, was allowed into her room. He closed the door and was hit with a wave of emotion. Even in a hotel room, everything was so Kitty – the scent of her perfume, the way her shoes were lined up just so, the brush on the vanity with strands of her red hair. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was going to be fine. It was time to get to work, and the closet a good place to start. As expected, her clothes were hung neatly and with care. He worked his way through item by item. The blue dress was pretty, but seemed awful fancy – maybe she'd want to feel fancy at a time like this – no she wouldn't want to leave the hospital dressed for a party. The red dress was nice, but so was the yellow, both were a bit revealing, so she'd want a shawl. That would lead to the problem of choosing a shawl, and they mostly looked alike to him. He kept going and came to a skirt. Maybe that was the answer. Kitty often wore skirts and blouses in the daytime. OK that would be it. He unclipped a maroon skirt from a hanger and started looking through blouses. How was he supposed to choose the right one – pink with pearl buttons, light blue with pleats, yellow with a high neck - finally he came to a white blouse with a ruffle down the front. It seemed right. He looked at what he'd chosen and wavered – was the skirt too plain, the blouse too fancy? Maybe he should start all over. No – he took hold of himself. He had to make a decision or he'd never get back to the hospital. Next – undergarments. He went to the dresser and opened a drawer. Stocking and garters were right on top. He put his hand on a pile of stockings, and had to smile. Too many times to count, he'd had the pleasure of slowly and gently peeling stockings from Kitty's legs, knowing that she loved the feel of his big, calloused hands on her soft, sweet flesh. With a slight smile, he placed stockings and garters next to the skirt and blouse. He opened another drawer. It revealed slips and corset like things that he had no name for. He only knew that she eagerly unfastened them, to open her body and breasts to his tender touch and soft kisses. Those items too, went on the pile of clothes. He shut the drawers, and turned to her shoes. The point of having so many shoes eluded him. He chose a pair of slip-on flats. They looked comfortable, and Kitty likely needed to feel comfortable right now. Or did she? Maybe wearing her fanciest shoes would help her feel beautiful. He looked through the shoes again, and picked up a pair of red, glittery high heels. They looked awful hard to walk in. He stuck with his original choice. With particular care, he packed everything in Kitty's small duffle bag and started hurrying out the door, before he could second-guess himself. He paused. There was one thing he knew for sure, Kitty would want her hair brushed and shiny. He grabbed her hairbrush and hurried back to the hospital.

TBC


	9. Taking Chances

Matt inched his chair closer to Kitty's bed and leaned forward. The nurse who'd shown him to her hospital room said she could wake up at any time. He watched her breaths go in and out. She looked so vulnerable. The purple bruise on her jaw twisted his heart. He knew a fist mark when he saw one. Oh Kitty – I wish you'd waited until I got back from Hays, maybe this wouldn't have happened. He ran his hand though his hair - who was he kidding. He would have asked her to wait until he had time to go to New Orleans with her, and she would have said she couldn't wait 100 years. Then she would have added that she was a big girl and could take care of herself. That would have been that. They were two strong willed people, and it was the kind of thing Kitty got fired up about before talking it through. Of course that was mostly his fault. When it came to his oath and badge, he didn't see a choice but to do the job the way he knew it had to be done. He'd accepted that when he took the oath. Of course he'd planned to carry the burdens of the job alone. He hadn't meant them to spill over onto a wonderful woman who deserved better. That's why he'd tried to resist her at first, but damn she was something.

"Matt." Kitty opened her eyes. "I am glad to see you, Cowboy." She slowly and gingerly sat up.

"How do you feel?"

"Well, awful sore and extremely hungry."

"Fixing the first part will take time, but I can do something about the second. The doctor said he'd release you when you woke up, if you felt up to it. I brought you some clothes. I um – talked my way into your hotel room."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow and resisted an urge to smile. "Show me what you picked out. Come on, spread it all out." He nervously spread the clothes across the bed, and smoothed each item out. She eyed them critically and slowly nodded, "Perfect, just perfect, not too fancy but stylish enough to make a woman feel good."

Greatly relieved, Matt exhaled loudly. Kitty smiled and shook her head. "Matt, I've seen you single handedly take on 10 Texans with guns, how hard could bringing me clothes have been?" "Kitty, I – well – it's just." She laughed, "Never mind. Give me a hand, I'm not moving too great." He gently helped her into her clothes. She'd just finished buttoning her blouse when she noticed her hairbrush in the duffle bag. "Matt, I can't believe you thought of that. Talk about perfect. Cowboy, I'm too sore to reach around, will you brush my hair for me?"

"That will be my pleasure."

An hour later they were sitting in the Happy Day Bistro. Matt watched wide-eyed as Kitty ordered the biggest meal he'd ever seen her eat. She giggled, "Now you know how I feel watching you, just about every day." As they ate, they filled each other in on what they knew. Kitty set her fork down, "So you've had the key all along. Max gave it to you in Hays, when I was still in Dodge."

"Yep, but I don't know what it goes to. Max left a notebook behind, but it doesn't really say."

"I know that part. There's a wall safe in the place where Clarice and Paul held me. The safe is well hidden, but it's there. I want to open it."

"Of course, but lets wait until tomorrow to give the police a chance to – to – clean things up."

"Good idea, anyway I've had enough excitement for one day. Let's think about our immediate situation. We both have hotel rooms, but something tells me yours won't be much to my liking."

"You're right about that. I could escort you to your hotel and forget to leave; I don't think anyone will notice. But I should sleep in a chair. With you being so sore and bruised, I don't want to take a chance on rolling over and hurting you."

"Matt, I need to be in your arms. I need you holding me."

"Holding you sounds awful good, but I could accidently …." He saw her face and took her hand, "All right, I'll just be careful not to hurt you. Let's get back to your hotel. Charles Street is right around the corner."

The Police Station

Clarice sat in the police captain's office and sipped water from a glass. Her chance at riches had disappeared, her house would be foreclosed on, and she no longer had Paul to help her scheme. She took a deep breath to fortify herself. She'd talked herself out of difficult situations before, and she could do it again. She slowly looked up into the police captain's eyes. He was young and handsome, maybe that would help.

"Captain, I – it's hard – but – I'd like to tell you what happened to me."

He nodded with a look that betrayed nothing, "I wish you would."

"I don't need to remind you that I am a respected member of New Orleans society. My murdered husband was from the Benet family. His people came from France to fight in the American Revolution. I'm of the Le Croix family. We've been in New Orleans for generations. We are honorable people." She sighed shakily "My dear husband and I were kidnapped by a porter, a lowlife who said his name was Joe Jones. He forced us into that basement at gunpoint to rob and extort us. He was going to do more than that to me. When he looked at me with lust, my husband knew what was on his mind and struggled to get the gun. That's how my dear, brave husband died. I can describe Jones. I will never forget that dark-skinned man – tall, and thin, with flecks of gray in his hair. He'll be easy to find at the railroad station." She looked up at the captain and smiled coyly, "I assume I can go now."

"I'm afraid not. I have a sworn affidavit from a US Marshal named Matt Dillon, and a signed confession from Lieutenant Roget. He admits to taking bribes from you to falsify your sister's cause of death."

Clarice set her shoulders back in resignation. "I'm a practical woman. I accept that you have proof and I'll be put on trial. I suppose I'll survive few months in jail."

The captain was stunned, "Mrs. Benet, you and your husband committed murder, kidnapping, assault, bribery and probably more. Those are offenses that could mean life in prison or even, I hate to say it, hanging."

"A woman can't be hung. Especially a society woman." She looked at him smugly.

"You'd be surprised."

She saw he was serious. Her mind raced. There was a tunnel Roget and some other crooked police officers used. She jumped up, threw her glass in the captain's face and raced from the room. By the time the stunned captain drew his gun, she was gone. He tried to follow, but she seemed to disappear. How was that possible? There were more secrets to this building than he knew. Another conversation with Lieutenant Roget was in order.

Clarice knew exactly where to find the small door that lead to a tunnel. Roget had explained its usefulness for anyone who wanted to come and go unnoticed. She went through the door and crawled for a few feet. After that she was able to stand. No one seemed to be following, so she slowed down to make a plan. She'd get to her house, pack everything that was valuable, and take a train somewhere – San Francisco or maybe east to Boston. She'd sell her possessions to survive until she regained her footing. She was smart, crafty and good-looking. She'd do fine. Feeling better, she continued through the tunnel. When she got to the door at the end, she tried to remember where it led. It didn't matter, she'd just continue on her way. She pushed through the door and walked up a flight of steps. The street sign said, Charles Street. She smiled at the irony, the Column Hotel was on that street.

"Hold it." She turned to the voice. Her jaw dropped. It was Kitty and that man who saved her. She turned and ran. No one was going to put her in jail much less hang her. She ran full speed, but heard the man's footsteps closing in. In a panic, she turned the corner without looking. A horse neighed and reared. She staggered back and fell. The horse's hooves crashed down on her head and neck. No one could survive that. No one would want to.

The driver of the hansom cab jumped down, "She came out of nowhere." Matt walked over, "It's not your fault." Kitty ran up beside him. He pulled her close. "It's an ugly sight, you sure you want to look?"

"Matt, the way she died can't possibly be as ugly as the way she lived."

The police captain appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, "Marshal, it seems I am in your debt again."

"Just keep doing what your doing captain. I wish you the best."

Matt put the hand on the small of Kitty's back. "Let's get to your hotel. I'll hold you in my arms all night. Fact is, I need that too."

TBC


	10. What's the Plan

The Next Morning

Matt stood by the window of Kitty's hotel room and looked down onto the beautiful garden below. An early riser by habit, he wanted Kitty to sleep undisturbed for as long as she needed. A tray with some rolls, a coffee pot and 2 cups sat on the end table. He'd already been to the hotel coffee shop. The concierge had looked at him oddly when he walked by, no doubt wondering if he'd spent the night in Miss Russell's room, but he'd merely said, "Nice to see you again, Marshal Dillon."

"Matt." Kitty sleepily turned onto her side. She was stiff and sore, but spending the night in Matt's warm arms had her done a world of good.

"Good morning." He poured a cup of coffee, stirred in a spoon of sugar and added a touch of cream. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Cowboy." She gratefully wrapped her hands around the steaming cup. "You were looking down at the hotel garden. It is beautiful. The other day, when I was sitting down there, I thought about making a garden like that in Dodge." She took a sip of coffee. "When I think about it, I realize that as nice as it would be to have a garden like that, I don't want to make one. Truth is, I was never much for digging in the ground or pulling up weeds." She shrugged, "Guess I'm not cut out to be a gardener, or a farmer, or a farmer's wife." She tilted her head coyly, "You're not thinking of taking up farming when you take off that badge, are you?"

"Nope, I've thought about ranching or trying to find work training lawmen." He smiled crookedly. "Maybe I'll just write a book about my adventures as a US Marshal. I could call it: The Wild Wild West, or maybe, Gunsmoke."

She grinned, "I could fancy myself the wife of a best selling author."

They both laughed. He handed her a buttered roll and refilled her coffee cup. She quickly finished both and slowly got out of bed. "Time to get on with some serious business, opening that safe. I wish Rosie was – I wish she – it's supposed to be hers, Matt."

"I know Kitty, but if Rosie couldn't have it, Max wanted it to go to you." Matt saw she was moving stiffly. "Let me give you a hand. What do you need from the closet?" She gratefully pointed to a dress. He got it down and helped her into her clothes. "Matt, I've been thinking about that safe. Max Le Croix was a seafaring man with lots of stories. That safe could be filled with amazing riches or worthless trinkets or some combination of both. If I recall, he used to say that Rosie would inherit a magic key, so she could have the treasures of his life. I guess we'll find out just what those treasures are."

"All set?" She took his arm and nodded. "Matt, I'm sorry you never met Rosie. She was the kindest, sweetest soul in the world. I know I already told you this, but she became a teacher in a really poor neighborhood. Her letters were full of stories about her students. She was beautiful inside and out."

"When you have time to go through Max's notebook, you'll see his sketches of two girls who were beautiful inside and out. Let's get to that safe. It's time this mystery is solved."

They walked side be side, with Matt setting a slow pace so as not to tax Kitty. When they got to the building, Kitty hesitated. Matt squeezed her hand. "Kitty, a lot happened to you in there. Are you sure you're ready to go back inside?"

She pressed her lips together. "With you with me, yes. Let's go."

They went in; he opened the trap door and they went downstairs. The basement was empty and sterile. The police had done a good job. Kitty walked straight to the wall safe. She was right. It wasn't apparent to the casual eye. Matt handed her the key. She shook her head nervously, "You open it." He slid the key in, turned it and pulled the door open. The first thing he spotted was a piece of paper, yellowed with age. He picked it up and cleared his throat.

_Dear Rosie, if you are opening this, it means that I've left this earth and her 7 seas. My travels gave me treasures that most people never see, but you gave me the magic of a child's laugh. I hope my treasures bring magic to you._

Matt handed the note to Kitty and reached inside the safe. The first thing he found was a small elephant made of bronze. He reached in again and pulled out a box. It was filled with unpolished pearls. Next came a bag of gold coins. He reached in again, the safe was deeper than he expected. When it was empty he and Kitty looked at the line up on the floor. Next to the elephant, box of pearls and gold coins was a silk kimono, a pair of white kid gloves, a small bag of uncut diamonds, a very large ruby ring, 10 gold hoop earrings, two ornate boxes – one ivory and one jade, several Japanese coins, a gold bracelet studded with emeralds, a rolled up wall tapestry and a silver lamp that looked liked something out of the story of Aladdin.

Matt scratched the back of his neck, "Kitty, I'm no expert in a lot of this stuff, but I know for sure that you are a very rich woman. The gold, diamonds and pearls alone are worth a fortune. Of course we'll have to figure out how to deal with all of it."

Kitty was stunned. She knew Matt was right. Some items were worth more than others but taken as a whole, she was looking at more wealth then she ever imagined having. She walked back and forth, and examined every item. Finally she reached into the box of unpolished pearls and took one. "I'll keep this in memory of Max. Like him it's unpolished but valuable, and it holds the wisdom of the sea. The rest goes to Rosie."

Matt looked confused, "Kitty, what do you mean?"

"Max wanted Rosie to have his treasure because he believed in her goodness. After she died, he wanted me to have it. I think that's because he believed I'd know the right thing to do. I'll need your help, Matt."

Mystified, he nodded, "Of course. What's that plan?"

TBC


	11. Where the Heart Is

AN - This is the final chapter so thank you readers for sticking with this story. A special thanks to those who took the time to comment. Your thoughts, insights and plot predictions/ideas are appreciated and make me stop and think. The readership here is amazing. For people who post as guests, I encourage you to get an account for my own selfish reason. I'd love to reach out to you directly and maybe have a conversation.

On with the finale.

Four Days Later

Matt snapped the largest of Kitty's suitcases shut, and set it on the floor with the rest of the luggage. "That's it, everything's packed. I'll go downstairs and get a bellhop to help us to a cab." Kitty smiled and watched him go out the door. They'd had 18 years together, with highs and lows and crazy adventures, but she wouldn't change a day of it, not one day. She sat down in the plush armchair and picked up Max's notebook. The past four days had been a whirlwind of activity and, to Matt's consternation, she hadn't had much time to rest or relax. This was her first opportunity to sit and look through the red notebook. She turned the pages and came to sketches of Rosie and herself. Their faces seemed impossibly young. She ran her finger over the drawing of Rosie's sweet face. "You were always beautiful inside and out. I hope you're happy with what I did the treasure Max left to you." Kitty smiled. "Having an auction was an adventure, and it drew a big and interesting crowd. Everything from the gold coins to the bronze elephant brought quite a price. With every bid, I thought of the poor students you mentioned in your letters, and the dilapidated building they used as a school. That's all changed. A breakfast program for the kids is in place, the leak in the roof has been fixed and supplies have been ordered. Best of all, there's money in a safe investment so the school will have an ongoing source of income. I think you'd be pleased, well except for one thing. It would embarrass you to know that the school is now called, The Rosemarie Le Croix Academy. My friend, there is nothing you can do about that. Your name deserves to live on."

The door opened and Matt walked in with a short but muscular bellhop. He collected the luggage and left. After a last look around, Matt and Kitty followed and climbed into a waiting cab. 20 minutes later they were standing in the train station. Kitty slowly shook her head. "So much has happened since I arrived, it feels like a century ago."

"I know what you mean. Kitty, look who's coming our way. I was hoping we'd find him here." A tall, thin, dark skinned porter with salt and pepper hair was hurrying towards them. Kitty smiled warmly, "Hello Mr. Jones. I'm so glad to see you."

"Miss Russell, I wanted to be sure I had a chance to say how sorry I am. If I hadn't gone after that big tip Paul Benet offered, none of those things would have happened to you. I should have figured he was up to no good. From now on, no matter how much I need money, I'll think twice before just taking any offer."

She put a hand on his arm, "It wasn't your fault. In fact, if you hadn't taken the job someone else would have, and that person may not have had the courage to help."

Matt nodded. "You not only led me to Kitty, but when Paul Benet pointed his gun at us, you stepped right in front of it. You're a brave man and a good one."

"Thank you both. Knowing I earned the respect of a fine lady and a US Marshal is something I'll always carry with me. Well – I see your train is boarding, I'll take your things to the baggage car."

Kitty put her hand in her skirt pocket and fingered the unpolished pearl she'd taken from Max's treasures as a memento. She held it up, and quickly slipped it into Jones' coat pocket. Mr. Jones that's a genuine pearl. It's valuable, and my wish is that it makes your life a little easier."

She took Matt's arm. He recognized the signal to start walking. There was nothing more to say. As they boarded the train she felt the question in his eyes. "Matt, it made no sense for me to keep that pearl. The notebook is all I want or need, and knowing that no one values it the way I do, makes it a treasure that's really mine."

They found seats in the rear of the train that afforded them some privacy. Kitty took the window seat and looked up at him. "Dodge City here we come." Matt sat beside her. "You look excited. Doc said you left because you were tired of things – running the Long Branch, Dodge, maybe other things too."

"Oh Matt, I came to a point when I stopped seeing what I had in life. I think that happens to most of us now and again. I've been reminded of what I have - a past with amazing memories, a full life to live right now, and a future to look forward to. I can't wait to get back."

"Um, speaking of that future. Remember, when Will Stambridge left 6 months ago, and we had a talk? I said I thought I only had a year or two of marshaling left in me."

"Of course I remember, and I know you can change your mind on that." An edge of wistfulness cut into her voice.

Without a word, he set an envelope on her lap. She stared down at it. It was addressed to the United States Department of War. "What's this?"

"It's my letter of resignation. I'm leaving it up to you. Mail it today, tomorrow, next week, a year from now. It's up to you."

She looked at the envelope for a long minute. "Matt, all the people I care about are in Dodge or nearby - Doc, Bess, Festus, Ma Smalley, Sam – you protect them and so many others. Folks have a chance at a decent life because of you. What if your replacement isn't up to the job, or worse, can be bribed like Lieutenant Roget and those others?"

"Kitty, I'm not the only good lawman in the country."

"I know, but I believe you're the best, and I'm not alone in that thinking."

"Well, I can't do the job forever."

"Lord knows I don't want you to, but I wish I could be sure that the next man can truly fill your shoes." She bit her lower lip. "But if I wait to mail this, and you – you're k-killed on the job, it would be my fault. I – I don't know what I'd do." She stared at the envelope for a few more seconds, picked it up and handed it back. "Matt, you know how I feel, but that's a decision you're going to have to make yourself."

He met her eyes, and a slight smile slowly touched his eyes and lips. She'd just served back the words he'd said when she asked him to say no to Will Stambridge.

"Matt, I've learned that there are times in life when the best place to find an answer is deep within yourself. Everything else falls away, and the thing you need to do suddenly becomes crystal clear. I think you know that."

"That's pretty deep for a redhead."

"I'm a pretty deep redhead."

They smiled at each other and he slipped the envelope into his pocket, "You're right. It's up to me. I have to trust that over the next year and a half, I'll know the right time to mail this. It won't be longer than that. I know that much for sure." He put an arm around her, "There are other things however, we need to decide together. Things we have to talk through every which way, like where we'll live and what we'll do. We have plans to make - for us."

She snuggled in, "I like the sound of that. And Matt, I know you were joking about writing a book, but whatever we decide to do, you should keep the idea of writing in the back of your mind. Even if it's just a story for a newspaper, you've seen so much and have a lot to share."

"Ha – imagine what Doc would say at the idea of me writing anything but a report for the government."

"I wouldn't be too sure, Matt. But speaking of Doc, if he hears us talking about our plans for the future, he's going to jump right in with his ideas."

"Yep, which means Festus will jump right in too, Of course the two of them won't agree on one dang thing. Well – except that it's a good idea to accept your offer of drinks on the house."

Kitty put her head on Matt's shoulder and smiled, "I've seen the scene played out a thousand times, and I can't wait to see it again. Home sweet home."

The End.


End file.
